Tirian had found himself indulged in silence and peace alike at the bottom of his flowered mug containing small droplets of remaining mead. His fiery red hair remained drenched, dripping alcohol of which held an apple taste to the ground of Flower Gin Inn. Deep down the young man knew his harasser would not attempt another round and if he did the consequences would be swift and deadly. Blue eyes remained parked at the counter of the bar with an uncaring appearance. Tirian had not felt threatened or pressured in the slightest way. Having an entire room gloat over a single act had not been anything new to the exiled prince. 

It had been close to this time Tirian took notice of heavy footsteps approaching what seemed to be his direction. Judging by the heavy creaking this person had been wearing some sort of armor, which meant either showboating or experience in battle. In any sense the red-haired man felt his cautions rise to a level that had not been healthy. A hand touched his shoulder. The hand did not portray anger or attack but rather caution. The words came swift and heavy from a tone of voice that had been almost as serious as Tirian’s face.

[b] “If you’re going to fight, at least keep it over the belt. That’s some dirty moves you pulled…”[/b]

Cheap. Tirian knew nothing of cheap, only of what had been fair in war. Even from a baby age of five he had been beaten and molded to believe warriors won at any cost and that nothing was cheap. If you’re opponent engaged you in battle, then it would be that persons sole responsibility to expect all reactions. Had it not been for the years spent with his mother, this man would be dead and most likely without a head. Allynn and the elven people of Imladris softened Tirian to a point of quiet solitude. Tirian enforced a strict one strike rule with everyone. Any single person had one warning, and then it would be severe reactions from the tip of his blade.

Tirian did not turn to the man or his hand, instead opted for a warning much more powerful than words or fists alike. Tirian surged a small amount of magic through his bloodstream into his shoulder muscles and eventually out through his pores into the man’s hand. The shock was nothing more than a small zap, not powerful enough to even hurt. It would only cause a mild stinging feeling for a brief moment or two. However, Tirian's shoulder joints would be a bit stiff for a while but the warning should give enough power to get this man off his back for the mean time. Tirian stood to a full proud posture with eyes of a color that could only be matched by the brightest and most beautiful shades of blue towards a certain smell that had instantly aromatized the room. Metallic and somewhat earthy crusted with natural stench of an older being. Tirian moved past Vordan without a second glance turning a smile to the old dwarf he had come to call friend in the past years.

“Rudolf you sure know how to smell a place up! How are you?”

This side, cheerful and unconditional happy had been something only good acquaintances and close friends had the pleasure to see. This was the true nature of Tirian a happy and cheerful person deep below those strict teachings of the past. Tirian knelt over to eye level with the dwarf with a quick embrace, stench or no stench this dwarf deserved a level of respect.

“I hope you still have room on that journey, I’d like to go Thialea. Again…”

The last words had a bit of pain held deep within it. The tone seemed to drop and Tirian found himself quiet once more.